clicking keys
a crackling fire
faint tick tock
begin to tire
surf and sip
and pages skim
google verse
and sunlit limb
let go of day
slow and soothe
inside out
make room for you
heal my wounds
renew my mind
quiet wooing world
unwind.

Man goes forth to his work and to his labor
until evening. – Psalms 104:23

image: Fire in the Evening, by Paul Klee

Susie is learning about fall in preschool,
so we slow down to observe the changes too.
Our trees turn neon orange and yellow,
and small bright cranberry colored leaves
speckle the yard here and there (delight!).
Boxelder and lady bugs
hideout in our curtains and lampshades,
and wander the sliding glass doors in the sun.
Mums and pumpkins
squat on doorsteps and grocery store fronts,
and skeletons hang from shop ceilings
over bags of honeycrisp apples.
Our soup becomes witches’ brew,
and we are all ghosts (boo!).
What will you be?
In a blink there’s a chill in the shade,
and tiny snow pellets
bounce on our driveway and deck
in the early hours.
Pumpkin lattes become peppermint
and peak color falls to white.
We will keep slow and observe
with contented curiosity.

Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy. – Acts 14:17

Without the walls and windows
we’ve known and counted on
to host our fellowship,
will I see you much?
Will we find new places
to continue navigating
one another’s personalities
for the betterment of our hearts
and our character?
I want my children to know you well –
how funny you are, how clever,
how imperfect and important.
I want my children to know your children
better than most, in an inside way.
You are my people!
I know the Lord will have us neighbors,
talking and building
life-fully together.
But that’s long off,
and a lot of earth and time to travel
without seeing you much
and knowing you well,
and sharing the rocky funny holy view
with siblings who see it too.

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. – Isaiah 43:19

Before breakfast
I play and read with Susie.
Mostly it’s dinosaurs and construction sites,
friendly manatees and moody fairies.
When we get to the Bible Stories,
she only wants lions and whales.
“GO TO NINEVEH,” I command.
NO! STARFISH!” says Susie.
“Tarshish?”
“Yet [Yes]. Starfish.”
“GO TO NINEVEH,” I repeat.
“O-kay, O-kay,” she blithely complies.

Dear God,
Thank you for lions and whales
and for Nineveh.
I want to go to Nineveh too!
Yet I am so often
deaf to your directions,
straining to hear
your whispers in my pleasure.
Will you teach me the way?
Will it hurt to hear?
Grant me courage to bear it
so I may go and pay forward
the blessings of obedience.

Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long. – Psalm 25:4-5

image: http://www.amandahall-illustration.com/work/the-hard-to-swallow-tale-of-jonah-and-the-whale/

A friend of a friend called me on Friday
and asked if she could give me a gift
that the Lord had asked her to give.
Stunned and small, I said yes.
How I yearned to be in her shoes,
financially prepared for His requests,
humbly and boldly pointing to Him all the way.
Over the weekend, I thought of the Ukraine.
In my teens I visited orphanages there
to spread the message of Jesus.
The children had no belongings at all
except the clothes on their backs
and small collections of dirty knick knacks –
tiny troll dolls and empty eraser tins
carefully lined on their windowsills.
They clung to each other, then to us,
hungry to be held, to be touched.
When the awful parting came weeks later
and it was time to board the bus,
our hearts were broken
as little hands pressed tiny troll dolls
into our palms
so we would not forget them.
My heart and head are full and foggy
as I try to make clear these extremities
of riches and giving.
I weep a bit, then wander,
fragile and amazed,
paying the bills with holy spirit dollars.
A friend of a friend is blessed
not by the means to give,
but by the heart to step boldly at His request,
and orphans give gold out of tin.
This morning I am still lost,
in and out of worthless worry,
but I am battling the fear.
The path and the peace are somewhere
in the giving.

But just as you excel in everything–in faith, in speech,
in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in your love for us–
see that you also excel in this grace of giving. – 2 Corinthians 8:7

Orphan’s Tree
BRINGING THE BENEFITS OF FAMILY AND GOD’S HOPE TO RUSSIAN ORPHANS WHEN THEY ARE MOST ALONE. http://orphanstree.org/

image: http://matthewscottwallace.com/2012/05/21/the-art-of-giving/

Wake up for kiddos and emailing wife.
Make lattes and milks and brush your teeth.
Change the baby and take out the dog.
Peel another banana (the first was dropped on a linty rug)
and pour some lucky charms.
Why is your iPad there? Put it here.
Reply to pressing messages (hope it’s good pressing).
Go outside and cut up the fallen tree.
Blow kisses to your girl waving from the window
and respond to an occasional question from scheduling wife.
Load all the limbs and branches into the car
and take them to the yard (2-3 trips?).
Try to keep the car relatively leafless. So, no leaves.
Return and take all the limbs and branches back out
(the yard is closed until Wednesday).
Shower. Maybe shave? Shave.
Collect kiddos and packing wife.
Drop off kiddos at in-laws and go to a movie.
Eat movie popcorn (yes!).
Drive back to in-laws and catch up over a beverage.
Open a present with an iTunes gift card (yes!)
then drive home with kiddos and distracted wife.
Drop off family and go out for Chipotle.
Bring home burritos (light rice for cilantro sensitive wife).
Change and feed the baby
and help manage ever spirited 3 yr old
(hugging, wrestling, reminding, playing with dinosaurs).
Help put kiddos to bed (teeth, hiding, prayer, song)
and pick out something to watch on TV.
Run out once more for diet coke and Dairy Queen
(s’mores blizzard for your craving wife).
Put your feet up and consider fantasy football trades.
Wake sleeping wife from the couch
and tell her its time for bed.
Re-tuck in kiddos, kiss groggy wife, and go to sleep.

On that crisp and sunny day before yesterday,
(and every day of every month)
you are loved and loved and loved
for all your care and all your character,
for all your flaws and all your excellence,
and for a thousand other things
pertaining to your heart and hands.

Your partnership is the joy of my life.
Love, your grateful wife

He will not forget your work and the love
you have shown him as you have helped his people
and continue to help them. – Hebrews 6:10

Go off the road you know so well,
on to earth and vineyard.
You saw Him there once,
out of the corner of your eye.
As surely as you in your sneakers, it was Him.
Or maybe He’s calling you to a new place.
Run there swiftly,
a swelling heart pulling you up off the earth,
legs still in stride in the air.
Arrive out of breath and holy high,
and wait there, long enough for His timing,
even though you fear the loneliness
(particularly in a place where He’s called you
thus darkness knows He’s coming boldly).
Be faithful and wait.
Even while sinking back down to the dirt,
bandaging busted stitches of old wounds,
the world almost wholly back in your brain,
press back on doubt’s entrance, and wait still.
He’s not late.
Let Him give this to you perfectly!
Remember too, He may not appear as you expect
in robes and sandals and carpentry tools.
Instead you might look up and see,
circling above your very head,
a crow and swallow transform into eagles.

But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint. – Isaiah 40:31

Poem inspired by my dear friend (and sister!) Tracey Bonanni and her recent Christ encounter. image: Biblioteca del Valldemosa archives.

Roger, our cheerful elderly neighbor
came to the door with two plastic bags
of oddly-shaped cucumbers and pale tomatoes
that ripen red in the sun.
Our tiny daughter greeted him (in her underwear),
“You’re not my grandpa.”
“No,” said Roger cheerfully,
“But I am a grandpa.  To Lila.”
“Ohhhhh…” said our girl, cheerfully.
That morning I prayed
for a few necessities
with expectation and thankfulness
before provision,
and I felt the full fast faith of a kid
fill my chest for an instant
in the freshness of the garden vegetables.
Granted by way of a cheerful neighbor,
my pale prayer
ripened red in the son.

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer,
believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.  
Mark 11:24

image: painting by Tina Wassel Keck